


Uncovering the Truth

by Morgana



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The soul was enough to drive anyone mad</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncovering the Truth

Angel had lied to him. To everyone, really. Oh, not with words - his sire was far too subtle for that. No, he'd lied with every day he didn't walk out into the sun and every night he didn't go looking for someone to stake him, with every smile and every gesture. He'd let everyone around him believe that his soul was some kind of wonderful gift, something that made him special and noble and all that shit.

And Spike had believed him.

He'd not only drunk the Kool-Aid, he'd mixed it up and poured it out for himself as well. All to try to be the man he'd once been, the man he knew she deserved. And now he was learning how very, very stupid he'd been.

To think that he'd actually believed it would be easy! A few trials, the wave of a demon's hand, and he could go trotting back to Sunnydale to show off his shiny new soul. Spike laughed bitterly as he remembered his own naivete when he'd gone storming into the cave against every warning he'd been given. The trials had been easy enough - not fun, but they really hadn't been too far from some of the things Angelus had thought of to amuse himself on sunny days, so they'd been bearable. And then the soul...

And that had changed everything. It burned when it was put in there, burned like fire until he'd screamed and run out into the night, seeking the cool desert night air, but that had only been the start of it. When the physical pain had faded, the ghosts had risen. The memory of blood and sex and death and worst of all, the sheer joy he'd taken in all of it! It was unthinkable, unbearable, and there was only one thing he could do to make up for any of it, although even that wouldn't really do it. Nothing could make up for the lives that had been stolen and the hearts that had been broken.

Not even his death.

He still tried. He tried to get up the courage to go out in the sunlight, but his nerve failed him every time and his ghosts mocked him. He tried to carve the soul out - or, if he couldn't manage that, to tear his own heart out, but he kept blacking out before he could get far. Apparently Professor Simmons had been right - there was indeed a God in Heaven above, and He was vengeful to the extreme. Spike could only assume he was under some sort of divine curse where death was seen as too merciful a gift for him after the horrors he had carried out.

So that left life. But he wasn't sure he knew how to live anymore. He couldn't stay out here in the desert forever, much as he might like to, but the thought of the world beyond, with its endless sounds and overwhelming discordance, its bright lights and screaming neon signs, was more unbearable still. So he did the only thing he could, the only thing he knew how to do: he ran.

But there was no outrunning the ghosts. No matter how far or fast he went, they followed him, taunting him and reminding him of exactly what he was and what he'd done. Every time he killed to survive, they hovered around him while he fed, until he could barely keep food down. He did everything he could to stay away from human contact, for his own good and to keep the villagers around him safe, but he knew it was just a matter of time. He was a killer, and sooner or later, he would kill again.

It was just a matter of time.


End file.
